


Like waves of sweet fire

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:14:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1328119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this picture : http://room-505.tumblr.com/post/78348102696</p><p>Title comes from Poets of the Fall's song "Sleep" (seemed appropriate ...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like waves of sweet fire

Stiles is a morning person and Derek hates it.

Well.

He enjoys feeling Stiles' body warm from his shower spooning him, bringing him back to the land of the living softly and comfortably.

He likes lazy morning kisses and caresses and soft, sleepy moans, and fucking like they're hugging, barely moving and simply letting the morning wind dictates their horizontal dance's rhythm.

He hates, hates with every fiber of his being, reaching for Stiles and finding emptiness.

It makes his heart skip a beat and Derek doesn't like having to control his heartbeat, dammit.

Of all the things he can't control, Derek knows that his heart is a lost cause.

Falling for the younger man is the prime example of it, isn't it?

Usually, Derek doesn't have to try to control his separation anxiety for too long, Stiles coming back to their bed pretty soon.

But some mornings, when Stiles decides to make breakfast or needs to watch the Sun rising on the horizon - something about fighting the darkness still surrounding his heart, even after all that time -, his side of the bed seemingly turns cold under Derek's fingers.

And Derek can't keep in the whine that escapes his mouth at the sensation.

It's half-whine, half muted howl, to be exact, and Derek is not particularly proud to sound like a weaning pup.

But that was at the beginning, when his half-asleep brain couldn't comprehend that Stiles was coming back. Back to the bed, back to him, back to himself.

Now, Derek has a technique.

If he feels the bed instead of Stiles' soft and warm skin, he rolls to his side, pulling the covers over himself tightly, forming a cocoon of their mixed smells around him, and he buries his nose on the other side of the bed.

In Stiles' pillow, more often than not, where Stiles' scent is strong, or in the mattress if Derek is feeling particularly ... needy.

Because the mattress holds the shape of Stiles' body, holds his more intimate scent.

If Derek is lucky - well, Stiles would point out that if Derek has already been lucky - it smells of their orgasms and it's perfect.

Derek thinks that Stiles will never let go of the time he found Derek with his face down the mattress at the exact location of his ass on the bed, and he couldn't bring himself to give a crap if his life depended on it.

When he really wakes up, Stiles is here, and it's all that truly matters.


End file.
